


Got It

by GettheSalt



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, IKEA, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettheSalt/pseuds/GettheSalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a bookcase, but it's important that it match the other one in the living room. The one Ward, Trip and Lance didn't destroy. That being said, an IKEA trip is absolutely necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got It

“It was one bookcase...”

Leo Fitz rolled his eyes, before nodding to the employee passing them, and continuing to lead the way through the kitchen collections floor of the department store. “And it's just _one_ trip to IKEA. I mean, you really shouldn't have this much of an aversion to furniture shopping.” Glancing over his shoulder, he gave the taller man a pointed look. “All things considered.”

“All things considered, Trip and Hunter should be here with me.”

“You're right,” Fitz commented drily. “But, as it turns out, _you_ are the one in a relationship with me, and _you_ were the only one on hand when that bookcase came back in stock.”

The bookcase in question had suffered an unfortunate fate a month before. Fitz hadn't been in the room, but from what he had gleaned from Skye's wild retelling, the events had unfolded as follows: They'd all gotten together for their monthly team regroup. It was nice, now that they were spread across the country, and across the globe, two-thirds of the time. It gave them a chance to catch up. Somehow, however, the get-together had descended into some kind of brotherly rough-housing between Ward, Triplett, and Hunter. Playful. Fun. Harmless.

Until one of them had mis-stepped, and all three of them crashed, quite literally, into one of the two bookcases in the living room. The poor thing hadn't stood a chance. At least none of them had been hurt, minus their egos. There was something to be said for the power of a scolding from Phil Coulson. It may have lost its edge a little when Skye had called him 'Team Dad', but, regardless, the scolding had done its job.

The issue now was that the damaged bookcase needed replacing, and Fitz refused to have it replaced with one that mismatched the other.

Which meant a trip to IKEA, once that particular bookcase was in stock. And since Trip was in Egypt on recon, and Hunter was Who-Knew-Where doing Who-Knew-What, Ward was on the shopping trip with Fitz, without anyone else to commiserate with.

“It's not the furniture shopping,” Ward started, stepping back as a woman barreled past them, shouting something at her husband about a new counter set. “It's the people.”

“You've never minded people before,” Fitz pointed out, slowing a bit so that they could walk side by side. “Well, no, that's not true, but you've never been made all skittish by crowds. Why now?”

Ward made a point to look around, before leaning in, just slightly. “Soccer moms with reno urges.”

Fitz paused for a second, before sputtering a laugh. “What?” he looked up at Ward, stepping around a selection of bar stools. “Soccer moms with _what_?”

“Reno urges,” Ward repeated, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. He was doing his best to look annoyed and serious, but Fitz could see the hints of amusement in the corners of his mouth, in his eyes. “Like that lady. Do you know how many women there are in this store right this minute who are hungry for a renovation?” He shook his head. “Hungry, and willing to do whatever it takes to get every last piece they need to achieve it.”

“I think Jemma would say that's vaguely sexist.” The engineer commented lightly.

“I'd say the same thing if we were in a hardware store,” his hip bumped a kitchen cart, and Ward huffed and stepped behind Fitz as they continued following the arrows leading them to their destination. “Renovation hungry men, desperate for some D.I.Y. Only difference is there's more room to move in a hardware store.” He finished with an obvious rub on his hip.

Another woman bustled past them, her elbow knocking into Fitz as she did. Another woman followed behind her, and paused for a second to apologize. “Sorry. My wife gets a bit rambunctious when we come here.”

Fitz waved a hand, smiling, “No worries. I'm fine.” He waited until she was out of earshot, and then turned to Ward. “At least she apologized.”

“Can we just find the bookcase before we get mowed down?” Ward asked. “Please? Please?”

“Oh, wow,” commented Fitz, reaching back for Ward's hand to tug him down the next aisle. “Now you're _begging_. You must be uncomfortable.”

“Yes, thank you.” The relief in Ward's voice was evident as the kitchens gave away to offices. “This is more like it.”

Fitz didn't let go of his hand, only adjusted their hands so he could lace their fingers together, giving Ward's a reassuring squeeze. This part of the store was much calmer, just a few university-age people and work-at-home types milling through the desks, and chairs. Without even trying, he could feel Ward's tension levels easing. “We just need to find the case, and then go get it from the warehouse, and then we're home free.”

“I want to stop in the restaurant first,” Fitz said, flatly. Ward didn't argue, and they continued on until they found the bookcase, made note of it, and then set off through the rest of the showroom. They were moving faster, now that they were closer to completing their mission, something that Ward seemed openly appreciative of.

“So... When we get home, do I get to watch you wrestle with the flatpack furniture?”

The stinkeye Fitz gave the other didn't take more than a second to manifest. “You make it sound like I'm going to have a hard time with it.”

“It's IKEA furniture. It's specifically designed to annoy people like you.”

“Kind of like their showroom is specifically designed to annoy people like you?” Fitz countered.

“Exactly. You're understanding now. And, when we get home, I-- Whoa. Wait.” Ward pulled on Fitz's hand, stopping at the edge of a bedroom set-up. “This is... nice, right?”

Looking from Ward, to the bedroom, and back again, Fitz narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge what was happening here. A moment before, Ward had been gung ho about getting out of the showroom. Now, he was the one slowing them down, _hmm_ ing over bedroom furniture. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Ward tore his eyes away from the display for a second, looking down at Fitz. “I'm... Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you...” His gaze fell back on the display and his mouth formed an ' _o_ ' of understanding. “Right. I was high-tailing it out of here, and then I stopped to look at a bed.”

Fitz tipped his head to the side in a 'That sums it up' gesture.

“It's nice, though, right?”

It was. It had to be king-sized, the frame a deep mahogany. The mattress looked sunk into it, the sides, footboard and headboard all coming up around it. It looked sturdy, Fitz thought, the edge of his mouth tipping up in a smirk. He nodded. “Why?”

“If I let you watch me struggle to put this together, will you let me watch you wrestle with the bookcase?”

For a second, the words didn't translate in Fitz's mind. He understood every one that was passing Ward's lips, but they weren't fitting together in a way that made sense, until...

“Grant, are you saying we should buy a new bed?”

He didn't know exactly why the implication made him feel warm all over. It wasn't like they didn't share a bed already. It was an old queen that Ward had brought with him when they'd moved in together. This bed wouldn't be making any kind of major change, it wouldn't be the first bed they shared.

But, somehow, Grant making the first move to buy their first proper shared bedroom furniture felt like a significant thing.

“Well, I'm...” Ward shrugged, gesturing at the bed, before nodding. And giving Fitz one of those crooked smiles that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. “Yeah. A nice, new, bigger bed, for me and you.”

Fitz stepped forward into the display, hand still tucked in Ward's, and lifted the tag looped around one of the struts in the headboard. “290-078-50 is the frame, 502-773-88 is the mattress.” He smiled over his shoulder at the other man. “Got that?”

That crooked smile had been replaced with one that was warm, and telling. “Got it.”

 


End file.
